


everyday from here to there, funny things are everywhere

by slashmania



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Eames has rescued a puppy from a shitty owner, Happy Ending, I love protective Arthur, Love, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pretend Friendship, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, and this should be the end of most of the sad, aw they finally introduced themselves, awkward arthur, i want to move on to the happy, not quite twenty questions, obviously offer him ice for his sprained ankle, oddest meet-cute I've ever written, oh yeah, or at least the things we'll laugh about because i literally had two ideas for how this would go, so many feelings, sudden arrival of Yusuf!, trigger warning: death of a pet, what do you do when some hot guy trips over the grave you dug?, when you're hiding a guy in your apartment, whens the worst time for your mom to come over?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: "Well, if you aren't going to murder or rob me, I don't see why I can't give you proper First Aid since you hurt yourself falling into the hole I dug for Ned," Arthur reasoned.The man blinked up at Arthur, then grimaced in pain when he tried to stand and put weight on the sprained ankle."Who's Ned?""My pet fish. You just interrupted a funeral."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [这里有，那里有，趣事每天哪儿都有](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20920607) by [ArtemisiaVaniot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisiaVaniot/pseuds/ArtemisiaVaniot)



> Hi! I intended to finish this before midnight, but I didn't. So this is technically posted very early on a Friday instead of Thursday.
> 
> I got this idea after watching an episode of House where the doctors are forced to dig up the corpse of their patient's cat. When I was watching that, I got this really stupid idea of what could possibly happen if they were found out. And then I imagined what it would be like if someone was attempting to bury a dead pet but was interrupted by somebody racing through their yard?
> 
> ...and then this happened. This really is the weirdest meet-cute I've thought up, and that even takes my Inception/Stranger Than Fiction fic into account! When I got the idea I immediately thought of Eames running away from someone he stole something from, then finds his way into Arthur's yard where the point man is just trying to do right by a beloved pet. 
> 
> Fair warning, I don't know how long this is. I may take the _Practically Perfect_ route and just write till I find the ending I want. Happy reading!

Arthur would have imagined himself as a character in a story, but he knew that it wouldn't work out. He was just too boring. Interesting stuff didn't happen to him. People didn't talk to him. Boring was an honest assessment.

He grew up in a loving home, had personal interests, but none that really encouraged him to join groups or make friends. Arthur didn't like team sports, he didn't like board games, card games, or video games. Even though his mother would send invitations to his classmates, Arthur would more often than not spend his birthday parties with just his small family in attendance, the empty seats and wasted party favors were things that Arthur ignored, but his parents argued over after he'd gone to bed.

Arthur didn't know what the word _stoic_ meant when he turned nine, but after going to school the next day and seeing that none of the kids who opted out of going to a party if only for the free cake, weren't truly sick with stomachaches like his mother suggested they might, Arthur ended up enduring the obvious slight without saying a single thing about it.

So Arthur, who didn't respond negatively or positively to the counseling sessions his parents had pressed him into sitting through when his teacher mentioned his isolation from the other students, hit the age of ten and didn't ask for a party. In a bid to make the day more interesting, his parents had suggested that they go out to the local fair and then come back home for cake, ice cream, and presents.

* * *

Arthur's tenth birthday became what he considered his best birthday because that was the day he got his first pet.

With his parents trailing behind him, Arthur approached a table covered with rows of small empty fish bowls. His parents encouraged him to give it a try, paying the man behind the table who gave Arthur a ping pong ball.

"Take a shot!" the man was saying.

Arthur had frowned, looking at the ping pong ball and at the size of the empty fish bowls. He didn't play many games like this. But if he could win a fish, that might be nice. He kind of liked goldfish.

He aimed for the middle of the table (because logically the ping pong ball would have a greater chance of falling in at least _one_ of the many fish bowls from there) tossing the ping pong ball and hoping the thing didn't bounce off the edge of a fish bowl and hit the ground.

But it went in! Arthur got a round of applause from both of his parents while the man fished the ping pong ball out of the bowl.

"Excellent shot, young man!" The man said and turned his back to get his fish. With a plastic bag filled with tank water and one common goldfish, the man carefully tied the bag shut and handed the fish over to Arthur.

* * *

His parents were able to find a small fish bowl that would serve as a temporary home for Arthur's fish.

After Arthur did some research on the common goldfish, he began saving up for something bigger. His parents helped him get the four foot, thirty gallon fish tank. Arthur had looked up the right food, the kind of gravel and plants to decorate the inside of the tank with, the filtering system, and so on, because even though his parents were skeptical, all of his research told him that his fish could live for at least fifteen years.

And it did.

Arthur named his fish Ned. When he was still young he'd try to amuse and entertain Ned by playing with him and even reading to him when his parents weren't watching, armed with cameras.

Arthur read classics to Ned. Ned seemed to like _One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish_ and chapters of _Moby-Dick._ Arthur decorated Ned's bowl with a mixture of bits of gravel too big for the fish to swallow and some polished stones. He framed a print of Escher's _Sky and Water II_ and put it behind the tank so Ned would have something interesting to look at instead of the wall.

And Arthur grew up taking care of his pet fish. He made it through elementary, junior high, high school, and almost all the way through college. He'd rented a small apartment so he wouldn't be a burden on his parents, worked part-time jobs, took classes, and continued to care for Ned.

Arthur had woken up in the morning, walked past Ned's large tank that still had the framed Escher print sitting behind it, but came to a stop to look back at the fish. He took a closer look and experienced a sinking feeling, as he noticed that Ned was belly-up, dead.

"Oh, Ned, not you," Arthur said, looking at the goldfish that had grown from one inch long to a little over five inches long since Arthur had won him from that fair.

After looking at poor Ned for a few seconds more, Arthur went to find the net he used to remove Ned from the tank for weekly cleanings and a box large enough for Ned.

There was no way in hell that he was going to flush his fish. So Arthur took the box, the fish, and a spade to the yard so he could do a proper burial.

* * *

Arthur chose a spot that wasn't too far from the entryway to his apartment and was in sight from his window. He wasn't digging deep enough to cause a problem for the property.

Ned was already safe inside the box. Arthur was just trying to make sure that the hole was deep enough and wide enough for the box to fit, but also not get dug up by a neighborhood cat.

Arthur was wondering what he should say. If he should be saying anything at all, really. He held the box and looked at the grave he'd dug, but couldn't put the box in the hole. He was frozen like that, kneeling next to the flowerbeds, dirt staining his sweatpants, when he heard a commotion.

The noise was coming from the low fence that separated the property his apartment complex was located from a larger house next door.

Arthur watched in shock as a man jumped over the fence, stumbled when he hit the ground, then took a look over his shoulder as a voice yelled after him. The man began running, still looking over his shoulder as if he was certain that someone was going to come after him.

"Hey," Arthur tried to say as the man grew closer.

The man was still not looking, getting closer and closer!

"Sir?" Arthur tried again, still grasping Ned's box, but unwilling to leave the grave he'd just dug because an admittedly handsome man was on the run from something or someone.

Arthur still had to get out of the way when the man was a foot or two away, still hadn't seen Arthur, but finally stopped looking over his damned shoulder in time to see the other fence that bordered Arthur's property, but not the hole in the ground he was still running towards.

The man's foot slipped into the hole and he took a tumble, making an inelegant squawk of surprise as he was pitched forwards and landed on the ground, his foot still stuck in what was meant to be Ned's grave.

"Motherfucker," the man cursed as he got to his hands and knees and awkwardly tried to remove his foot from the hole without hurting himself.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, holding his dead fish in a box, the spade kicked away, but still lingered on the grass a couple steps away from the walkway.

The man didn't answer Arthur immediately. He cursed some more, and then begged, "Look, I know this looks really bad but the most I can do is say that I'm not an axe murderer and I won't rob you. It would be great if you didn't ask me a lot of questions about this, but I really would appreciate it if you gave me a place to hide...and maybe some ice because I sprained my ankle."

Arthur stared, mouth gaping as he stood in his pajamas, still holding his dead fish in a box.

"Well, if you aren't going to murder or rob me, I don't see why I can't give you proper First Aid since you hurt yourself falling into the hole I dug for Ned," Arthur reasoned.

The man blinked up at Arthur, then grimaced in pain when he tried to stand and put weight on the sprained ankle.

"Who's Ned?"

"My pet fish. You just interrupted a funeral."

The man's eyes widened and he almost looked like he was about to apologize, but the shouting was getting louder. He looked at Arthur with pleading eyes. "I'll offer you my condolences once we're behind a locked door!"

Arthur nodded and pointed to the nearby door.

The stranger hobbled as quickly as he could and Arthur followed after him, still holding the box.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur had passed him the remote and given him the cloth ice bag full of ice cubes, then went back to the kitchen to get the box his fish was still sitting in. He paused in front of his guest and said, "My name is Arthur."
> 
> "It's a pleasure to meet you, Arthur. I'm Eames."
> 
> Eames looked at him with concern. "I'm truly sorry that your fish passed away. I'm also sorry that I ruined your first attempt at the burial."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, the positive responses I'm getting for just the first chapter have blown me away! I'm having _I Specialize In Happy Endings (Not Euphemistically)_ flash backs!
> 
> So here, have another chapter before midnight!

Arthur's apartment was large enough for one. To be honest, that was actually one of its major selling points for Arthur. He hadn't wanted a roommate. He hadn't planned on keeping his lease longer than it took for him to complete his degree and get a job, but he hadn't anticipated how much longer his courses would take.

Arthur closed and locked the door. Then he stood with his back against it, uncertainly holding Ned's box while he looked at his guest. The man had been moving from piece of furniture to piece of furniture, using each to help him maintain his balance as he tried to reach Arthur's futon.

The man had moved from Arthur's bookshelf, to his coffee table, to his futon. The man finally sat heavily, the metal frame of the futon squeaking in protest. The man winced in response to the noise or the pain of his ankle. Arthur looked down at the box in his free hand, and he decided that he was going to take care of his guest _and_ put the box somewhere else so his hands would be free.

"Give me a moment and I'll get you some ice and some Advil."

Arthur didn't wait for the man to reply, only walked past the coffee table and futon so he could reach his small kitchen.

* * *

Like everything else in the apartment, the kitchen was small, built for one person to roam around and cook comfortably. Arthur was almost grateful that his guest didn't seem capable or extremely willing to walk as far as the kitchen. It would be far too crowded for Arthur.

Arthur emptied the contents of his ice cube tray into the reusable cloth ice bag his mother had gifted him in his first care package when he left home. She'd also sent him an emergency sewing kit, deodorant and soap, a Starbucks gift card, and a box that contained laminated index cards that listed ingredients and directions for some of his favorite meals. The note that had been attached to his care package had said something along the lines of _'I love you, son, but if you try to survive off of instant ramen noodles, you can't complain to me when you've wasted away to nothing.'_ Arthur would be lying if he said that he didn't have that note carefully folded in the recipe box so he wouldn't lose the reminder from his mother.

He left the ice bag on the counter so he could head to the bathroom and fetch his bottle of Advil. Arthur then took the ice bag, the Advil, and a large glass of water with him to the living room area.

"Here you go," Arthur said, noticing that the man had taken off his right shoe, but was staring at the coffee table.

"How offended would you be if I used the coffee table to elevate my foot?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment, but shrugged. "It's necessary, isn't it? I've had sprains before. If you have to sit around here for awhile it would be better if your foot was elevated to reduce swelling. It would be terrible if you couldn't continue running from whoever that person was just because of a mild sprain."

The man frowned at Arthur. "To be completely honest, I'm not sure if I should be worried that you believe me when I say I'm not going to commit murder or rob you."

As the man had been speaking, Arthur had pried the cap off of the Advil bottle, took out two pills, then offered the medicine and water to him. "I could say the same of you. I'm a perfect stranger who you only met because you tripped over the grave I was digging for my pet, and then the first thing you think of is begging me for sanctuary. Who says _I'm_ not the dangerous one?"

The man held the Advil in the palm of his hand and looked at the contents of his glass of water briefly. "Okay. I'll humor you. These pills are actually Advil and the water isn't poisoned, correct?"

"I don't think my parents would ever forgive me for poisoning a stranger I let into my home. Does this situation look like an updated version of _Arsenic and Old Lace_ to you?"

"Huh," the man said thoughtfully. "He's polite _and_ he's familiar with the classics!"

"My mother had a crush on Cary Grant," Arthur explained. "Just take the medicine, drink the water, and get your foot on the coffee table so you can start icing that ankle. Take that throw pillow and put it on the table, it'll definitely make your foot more comfortable and will elevate it enough to be level with your heart."

"I'm curious when we're going to exchange names," his guest said as he did what Arthur suggested.

"Is it necessary?"

The man blinked, surprised and maybe a little hurt. "Oh...well I guess not. I can just refer to you as Ned's owner. It fits. It's accurate and anonymous."

The phrase brought the poor fish to mind, making Arthur looked over his shoulder at the entrance to the kitchen.

"That's right. I left him in there..." Arthur shook his head and looked at the man, ready to apologize to him. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm a little out of sorts right now. I'm going to go bury my fish. Start icing your ankle, okay? Here's the remote, why don't you watch television or something?"

Arthur had passed him the remote and given him the cloth ice bag full of ice cubes, then went back to the kitchen to get the box his fish was still sitting in. He paused in front of his guest and said, "My name is Arthur."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Arthur. I'm Eames."

Eames looked at him with concern. "I'm truly sorry that your fish passed away. I'm also sorry that I ruined your first attempt at the burial."

Arthur glanced at the box for a second, then looked at Eames again. "Thank you, Eames. This won't take me very long."

And then he headed out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur turned and looked at Eames seriously.
> 
> "I'm waiting for the water to boil. Then I'll make us some tea. You're going to tell me what happened before you hopped my fence."
> 
> Arthur was certain to make the last part not sound negotiable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I meant to post yesterday but couldn't stay awake long enough to come up with something longer than a few paragraphs. Enjoy a fish burial and Arthur yelling at the man who is now looking for Eames.

Once Arthur was back outside, kneeling in front of the hole Eames had tripped over, he was able to get back into the quiet headspace he needed to take care of this. He was going to do it right.

"Okay, Ned," Arthur said as he picked up the box from where he'd set it on the grass next to the spade he'd recovered. He could do this.

"You were such a great fish, Ned. I don't care what anyone else says, you were never a dumb pet. You were there for me when there wasn't anyone else. I didn't need anybody else as long as I had you, buddy."

Arthur carefully placed the box in the hole. "I know I sound ridiculous, but I'm going to miss seeing you when I come home."

And that was the truth. It still made Arthur feel better to see his fish when he got home after a long day, Ned visibly perking up when Arthur entered the room. Evening feeding times were usually spent with Arthur's hand submerged to the wrist in the tank, Ned eating his fish food from Arthur's hand as Arthur softly recounted the events of the day.

"I'm sorry we didn't get any reading done last night," Arthur said, recalling how tired he'd been. That he'd apologetically sprinkled the fish food on the water and watched as Ned first stared uncertainly at the floating food, but then began to eat when he realized that Arthur wasn't going to do more than that. On evenings when he wasn't so tired Arthur would pull out some of the toys that came in the fish training kit he'd bought years ago, letting Ned nudge around a floating red die for fun.

Thinking about things like Ned's red die made Arthur turn and look back at his closed door- he could have buried the red die with Ned, and it really was the fish's favorite toy, why didn't he just go back inside and pick it up?

But thinking about going back inside for another thing to bury with his fish was just another way to delay the act. He'd already tried to prevent himself from delaying by not putting Ned in the freezer when he had to go back inside with Eames. If he sat and thought about it some more he'd end up thinking about more things Ned would have liked. He'd have to dig a bigger hole so that the faded copy of _One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish_ could fit...

Arthur stopped thinking about it and grabbed the spade so he could start filling the hole, then carefully scraped the the last bits of earth with his bare hands, finally smoothing the space and making sure the dirt was packed tightly enough. If it wouldn't have served as a trip-hazard, Arthur would have found a large rock to place on top of the fresh grave to further prevent animals from digging up Ned.

He began to think about the other things he'd have to do; emptying the water from the tank, cleaning everything that had been inside the tank, and then figuring out what to keep and what to throw out. But that part could wait a little bit.

"Excuse me-"

Arthur looked up quickly to find that he had another stranger in his yard, but thankfully he hadn't arrived by jumping over the fence.

Arthur still didn't like it.

Once he'd gotten Arthur's attention, the man proceeded to speak without offering anything like a _Hello, how are you doing, lovely day we're having._

"Have you seen a man run by?"

Arthur picked up his spade and stood up. Arthur looked this man in the eye. He wasn't very familiar, but that wasn't unusual. Arthur knew his immediate neighbors, everyone in his building, and saw a few familiar faces around the block. Either Eames was running a little longer than Arthur assumed or this person wasn't from around here...

"Sorry," Arthur said. "I've been burying my fish."

The man stared. Thankfully he made no comments on this, just began rattling off a description that fit Eames.

"He's 5' 9" with brown hair, grey eyes-"

Arthur shook his head. "I haven't seen anyone matching that description."

"But if you've been out here you should have seen _something_ ," the man said, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

And that was the last straw for Arthur.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, "I've been busy burying my pet fish. He died this morning. I've had him since I was ten, so forgive me if I haven't spotted this mystery man of yours!"

Arthur was shocked to find that _now_ was the time for tears of grief. Or maybe he was just angry or frustrated. He'd only want to cry in private, but he already had Eames inside his apartment, so Arthur tightened his grip on the stupid spade he was still holding and let himself cry.

The man took a step backwards and raised both hands, as if he could calm Arthur down by making simple hand gestures.

"Look, I didn't mean to bother you-"

"Well then why the fuck are you trespassing on private property, asking a person who just told you they've been burying their dead pet if they've seen some idiot running by?"

This man didn't seem to know what to do. The line about private property and trespassing seemed to sink in, and the man began to walk backwards, hands still up.

"Why don't you just call the police?" Arthur said.

The man didn't say anything in response to that except for a muttered apology.

"I'm leaving now, I'm sorry."

Then the man who hadn't identified himself but was clearly looking for Eames, walked away from where Arthur was standing over Ned's grave to go around to the front of the building and the street.

Arthur waited, counted to ten, and refused to try and dry his eyes. His hands were covered in dirt anyway.

* * *

"Are you okay-"

Arthur locked the door behind him and paced over to where Eames was still sitting with his foot on the throw pillow on top of the coffee table. The ice bag was in place and Eames had put the television on mute when he heard Arthur coming.

Arthur brushed past Eames's place on the futon, he headed to the kitchen where he dumped the spade on the table and headed to the sink to wash the dirt from his hands.

He pulled a paper towel off the roll next to his drainboard and dried his eyes. When he was finished he pulled a tea kettle down from a shelf and filled it with water. He set it on the stove, turned up the flame, and set it to boil while he went back to Eames on the futon.

Arthur sat down next to Eames.

"A man came around and asked me questions about a guy matching your description."

"I could hear you raised your voice."

"He expected me to know whether or not you came through here while I was busy burying a dead pet."

Eames winced. "But did he say anything else?"

"No. When I asked him why he didn't just call the police, he didn't answer me."

Arthur turned and looked at Eames seriously.

"I'm waiting for the water to boil. Then I'll make us some tea. You're going to tell me what happened before you hopped my fence."

Arthur was certain to make the last part not sound negotiable.

Eames nodded his agreement. "I'll tell you what happened, darling."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur looked at the pictures, frowning to himself. "You stole a puppy."
> 
> "For its own good!" Eames swiftly added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly depressing fact: Bosco, the fictional Jack Russell terrier is based off of two dogs an old, dearly departed friend, had owned. She rescued the first that had been left tied to a water faucet by some relative of hers (she actually told them they were only allowed to get flushable pets after that) and the second was the last dog she owned before she passed away a couple of years ago. He actually had to be put down a week before she passed away. 
> 
> The breeder who sold him to her brother, who then gifted the puppy to her, had named the dog Bosco. But she changed it to Mortimer, just like the character in _Arsenic and Old Lace_. I couldn't think of anything else to write today considering its the anniversary, and I'm just recycling the breed, stories, and names of one of my friend's dogs because my original idea for this section was much sadder.

"The guy who chased after me and then bothered you when you were burying your pet?" Eames asked, as if Arthur needed the clarification. 

Arthur nodded anyway and took a sip of his tea.

"His name is Kurt."

"Nothing seems objectionable yet."

"He's an asshole to his dog."

Arthur said nothing and let Eames continue.

"He's an asshole to his dog and I decided that I was going to rescue the dog from him."

"But when did you find the opportunity? Did you walk onto his property, uninvited?"

"Not uninvited, per say. I'm there every week to do the gardening. I was the gardener, considering I'm sure I'm fired for this. I'd see his dog each and every week tied up in the backyard while I was supposed to be mowing the lawn. I'd asked and asked Kurt to make sure that poor Bosco-"

"Kurt named his dog Bosco?"

Eames was distracted. "No. Kurt mentioned that the dog got the name from the breeder. He doesn't look like a Bosco."

That was when Eames pulled out his cellphone and showed Arthur a picture. Several pictures, really, of a medium sized white Jack Russell terrier with patches of brown over one eye, his ears, and the very tip of his docked tail. The first picture was of Bosco chained to the fence. A few others were of Bosco chained to the outdoor water faucet in the yard. The dog looked miserable.

"I've been gathering evidence to present a claim of neglect to the authorities. I've seen Bosco stuck out there for hours at a time. Kurt hardly walks him, feeds him just enough for the dog to survive, and doesn't seem to even _like_ the dog. But when I saw him today, I just couldn't take it anymore. I took the dog out of the yard and passed him to my friend Yusuf. We split up when Kurt saw what I was doing- thankfully he only saw me and not Yusuf. At least Bosco isn't stuck at that house anymore..."

Arthur looked at the pictures, frowning to himself. "You stole a puppy."

"For its own good!" Eames swiftly added.

"Yes, for its own good," Arthur agreed. "But you made it all the way to my yard only to trip and sprain your ankle. Some would call that ironic."

Eames looked at the ankle he was still busy icing. "Yes, it's pretty funny."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You got hurt! I may not be a very sociable person, and other people really don't like me, but damn it, I still believe in doing the right thing. You also assured me that you weren't an axe murderer, so that was just another point in your favor."
> 
> And Arthur was still being serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I didn't intend to let this sit for a week. Let's get on track and move this plot along! Watch as I make Kurt a nonissue just so I don't have to deal with the legal ramifications of Eames stealing the puppy from him!

Arthur was still looking at the pictures Eames had taken of the puppy.

"Stealing a dog is a felony in California," Arthur said to Eames. "Whether or not its considered petty theft or grand theft is dictated by the price of the dog..."

"I wasn't going to sell the little guy, I just wanted to get him out of that place."

"I know."

"Then why mention it?"

Arthur was silent for a moment, deciding how he should answer. The best answer would include something that didn't suggest that he assumed Eames wasn't already aware of that fact. Eames had been running, he'd begged Arthur to help him hide, so he understood how guilty he looked. It was best to tackle the biggest issue, Arthur finally thought.

"This Kurt guy knows what you look like. He described you to me, Eames. He even knows your name. Can he find you?"

"I'm just a guy he hired to mow and water his lawn. He only knows that I go by Eames. He's got my phone number, but that's easily changed. He doesn't know where I live. If he's smart, he'll let this issue drop. He didn't like the dog. He'd said as much to me in the past."

Arthur frowned, handing the phone back to Eames. "But he was upset enough to try and chase you down."

"I'm sure I could have gotten a similar response if I stole his stereo." Eames paused and cleared his throat as he sat up. "I feel obligated to remind you that I said I'm not going to rob you. And I'm still not! Really, I'm not!"

Arthur couldn't stop himself from smiling a little. "I don't own cute puppies in need of rescue. Everything's fine, Eames."

Eames slumped back in relief. "Thank you."

Still sitting side by side on the futon both men watched the television screen that was still on mute.

"I guess we have to talk about what happens next," Arthur said. "I was able to get Kurt off the property the last time he showed up, but we can't be sure if Kurt will come back this way."

Eames glanced at the ice bag still on his ankle. "I can't run with crutches."

"I don't have crutches. So I guess you'll have to stay put until Kurt loses interest."

Eames looked at Arthur seriously. "I don't think I can do that. Please don't take offense, but I've noticed that you don't seem very comfortable having me as a guest."

Arthur didn't flinch or frown. He was pretty good at admitting his own faults. "I'm pretty busy when I'm in school, but I've just started a break. Either way, I'm not very sociable and I don't usually have anyone over."

"Then why did you take me in?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You got hurt! I may not be a very sociable person, and other people really don't like me, but damn it, I still believe in doing the right thing. You also assured me that you weren't an axe murderer, so that was just another point in your favor."

And Arthur was still being serious.

"Oh my, you're too nice for your own good, aren't you?" Eames said as he reached for his tea again.

Arthur didn't have a personal opinion about how nice he was. He was honest and helpful and very aware of how easily people misunderstood him. Because even though Arthur identified himself with several positive qualities _nice_ wasn't at the top of the list, no matter what his mother said about him being a _nice boy._ Arthur ended up giving Eames the same answer usually given to his mother when she would talk about how nice he was.

"I'm just Arthur."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can think you're a nice boy and be boyfriend material at the same time, you know?"
> 
> Arthur smiled. "Please don't press our luck, Mr. Eames."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. After rewriting this idea and deleting this idea I finally settled on posting this chapter because its been awhile. Get ready for Arthur and Eames pretending to be friends! Lets hear it for making stuff complicated!

Arthur's phone began to ring. Since Eames was closest to the wireless landline, he reached over to the charging station and plucked it up so he could pass the still ringing phone to Arthur.

"Thank you," Arthur said while glancing at the number blinking on the glowing face of his phone.

"Not a problem, darling."

Arthur didn't look at Eames after hearing the endearment, only answering the phone.

"Good morning, Mom."

His mother, all business with a smattering of affection, launched into her topic. "A little bird told me that you've taken a break, sweetheart."

Arthur closed his eyes and answered. "Its summer. The spring was kind of hard on me, but I'll get back to work near the end of August."

"I'm not calling to pester you about your classes, I'm calling to see what your schedule looks like today."

And Arthur should have known that was coming because he'd not seen either of his parents for awhile. They weren't so far apart, it was just a quick drive for them, just a bus ride for Arthur, but as he'd explained to Eames, Arthur was busy.

"I'm really sorry, but this isn't the best time for us to go to lunch," Arthur wasn't even looking in Eames's direction, and his peripheral vision wasn't good enough for him to see the other man staring at him as his gaze was fixed on the muted television, but Arthur still had a sense of being watched. Maybe the other man had grown more still, maybe more quiet as Arthur had begun the phone call? "I had to bury Ned today, Mom."

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," his mother sighed.

"I'm fine," Arthur said quickly, hurrying to reassure her. "I just don't really want to go outside today. I promise we'll go out later, really we will. And I'll tell you about my classes, and you'll tell me about what you're up to. It'll be great." Even Arthur noticed how flat that sounded, it didn't surprise Arthur that she caught his tone of voice.

"I'm going to come over," she said shortly.

"Mom, you really don't have to."

"I'll make you lunch."

"Please don't-"

"Arthur, you're allowed to grieve but you can't shut your family out."

"Ned was just a goldfish, Mom," Arthur said firmly. "I'm going to be okay. You don't need to rush to my side."

"Ned has also been your pet since you were a little boy."

Arthur really couldn't say anything against that. It was true. Ned had been his best friend. Arthur glanced over at Eames, who really was looking at Arthur, head tilted in curiosity. Arthur looked away.

"I know that, Mom. But could you please give me a little time to clean up around here? I can't have you walking around my dirty laundry and stuff."

"How about noon? I'll come by and we'll have a chat over lunch. I just want you to know that I'm here for you."

"Sure. That's sounds great."

Arthur ended the call and held the phone loosely in his hand.

"My mother is coming over, Eames."

Eames was already forcing himself to sit up. "You've been really nice. So lovely, really," Eames was saying, even as he winced when he started to force his foot off of the coffee table. The ice bag fell to the ground with a slight sloshing from the melting ice cubes. "But I should get out of your hair."

"Stay put," Arthur said, sitting up and swiping the ice bag off the floor. "Put your foot back on the coffee table and listen to what I have to say before you try to limp out of here."

Eames did as Arthur asked. Arthur set the ice bag back on Eames's ankle and talked.

"My mom is going to be here in a couple of hours. I'm not kicking you out of here because I have an unexpected visitor. There's a laundry room for tenants here- I'm going to give you something to change into while I wash what you're wearing."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"You took a tumble in my yard after running away from someone, okay? The dirt stains alone will conflict with the story I'm going to tell her about why you're here."

Eames stared. "And that is?"

Arthur sighed. "The one she'll want to hear the most. The one she'll believe if we keep our story simple. How much experience do you have pretending to be a friend?"

Eames raised his eyebrows. "None?"

Arthur nodded. "Okay, that's fine." Arthur started heading towards the hall leading to his bathroom. After rummaging around in his closet, Arthur came back with a handful of clothes and tossed them on the futon next to Eames. Arthur also left a clothes basket on the coffee table. "Okay, you'll need to take off your clothes and put them in this basket."

Eames's eyebrows were still raised, but he was also smirking. "Are you sure that we aren't more than friends?"

"We'll go with the lie that's smaller, something more believable. My mother thinks I'm a nice boy. I've never brought anyone home, I've never said anything about dating, so we're going to start with the basics."

"I can think you're a nice boy _and_ be boyfriend material at the same time, you know?"

Arthur smiled. "Please don't press our luck, Mr. Eames."

Then Arthur frowned.

"We'll have time for questions and answers when I get back from putting your clothes in the washer, but I think this one is a good start: Is Eames your first or last name?"

"Eames is my last name, but I prefer it over my first name. You can call me Mr. Eames anytime, darling."

"I'm walking into the kitchen to give you privacy," Arthur said over his shoulder, already walking away so Eames could undress and put on the clothes Arthur found for him. "We'll play twenty questions once I get back from the laundry room!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Eames smiled at Arthur. And yes, Eames's teeth were crooked, but damn it, Arthur was already smiling in response and saying, "You are so charming my mother is going to fawn over you once she's done fretting over me. Wait, no, she'll want to introduce herself and be polite to you, will be drawn in by your charm, and then will notice me in the background and get flustered. That's just my mom. Thank god you don't look more like Cary Grant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! I'm sorry for the very long wait. I've been doing a lot of writing and then deleting everything because I hate it. I'm only writing today because I learned that a newborn kitten I'd saved and then passed on to my friend who could take better care of it had actually died on Friday. It depressed me so much that I told myself I'd write whatever I want for however long I want.
> 
> So here's some Arthur and Eames cuteness along with a bit of Yusuf popping up at the end to make this story even more complicated! Edits for errors will be completed after the writing marathon.

They really did start playing twenty questions when Arthur came back from the laundry room, empty basket in hand.

Eames began reading something he'd looked up on his phone.

"What embarrasses you the most? Or what was your most embarrassing moment?"

Arthur frowned, now seated beside Eames again on the futon. "Where are you getting these questions from?"

"Teen Vogue," Eames said. "They had a '55 Important Questions to Ask Your BFF' article online. Go ahead and answer so I can give you mine."

"Um, my most embarrassing moment was when Joey Talbot pantsed me at school."

Eames raised his eyebrows. "When did that happen?"

"That wasn't a part of the question."

"We're supposed to be learning about each other, darling."

"Fine. I was in high school," Arthur said, shrugging. "I got laughed at. I usually got laughed at any way because people thought I was weird, and I get it since I'm still not social or fun or interesting. But I handled it pretty well. I pulled up my pants, turned to Joey, and punched him in his smug face."

Yes, Arthur remembered that a little fondly.

When he was still in middle school he'd started coming home with fresh bruises and even though he'd carefully explained the fights to his teachers and his parents, things didn't get any better. He was bullied, but he took the bullying without showing much emotion, and if anything that bothered his bullies even more. The fights got worse. Arthur would come home with a split lip, or a black eye, or even the contents of his backpack ripped up or soaking wet. His parents knew that Arthur just wanted space, but his mother would sometimes bring him a sandwich and attempt to talk to him about his day. He'd spend the conversation looking inside his fish tank and watching Ned swim around, sometimes dipping his fingers in the tank and dragging them through the water so Ned would dart around and trail after them, nibbling at Arthur's fingertips.

Arthur's smile slipped a fraction when he thought of his fish, but he pushed on through to continue the story.

"Joey Talbot had no clue that I'd been taking self-defense classes for years. He never tried to bother me again, and I gained a reputation as the weird guy that people could laugh at, but dear god, don't try to beat him up because he's got a great right hook that made Joey Talbot lose a tooth."

Eames rubbed his jaw in sympathy. "That actually lines up with what I'm embarrassed about."

"I somehow doubt that you get punched in the face a lot."

 _That's an awfully nice face,_ Arthur thought. It was true. It was true and wasn't ever going to say that to Eames while they were playing twenty questions.

"My teeth. I'm embarrassed by my crooked teeth. I felt much worse about it when I was younger, but now I can sort of smile in the mirror and think that even though it's obviously crooked, I've still got a charming smile. Sort of. I don't know, what do you think?"

Then Eames smiled at Arthur. And yes, Eames's teeth were crooked, but damn it, Arthur was already smiling in response and saying, "You are so charming my mother is going to fawn over you once she's done fretting over me. Wait, no, she'll want to introduce herself and be polite to you, will be drawn in by your charm, and then will notice me in the background and get flustered. That's just my mom. Thank god you don't look more like Cary Grant."

"Yes, Teen Vogue is serving us well. Let's try another!" Eames chose another from the list. "If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would you choose? What words do you think your friends would choose to describe you?"

Arthur could think of plenty of words to describe himself. Since he didn't have friends he had no idea what they'd choose. Maybe if he imagined what his ideal friend was, and what they might think of him he could come up with something.

"Don't overthink it, Arthur," Eames gently reminded him.

"I'd choose _polite, practical,_ and _introvert._ I guess that if I had a friend I'd hope they thought I was nice." Arthur frowned. "Why is _nice_ the only thing I can think of?"

"You _are_ nice. I've known you for less than an hour and can say that you're compassionate, Arthur. You're compassionate, loyal, and trusting. You've hidden me from Kurt, Arthur. You lied to his face for me!"

"It just wasn't logical to assume that you were going to do me harm or steal from me. You were being chased, you couldn't have known I was burying a fish out there and you really weren't looking even when I tried to get your attention. So the injury was real, you were so polite when you asked to be hidden that I figured that would be better to get you inside. And now that you've heard my Joey Talbot story, you're aware that I can kick your ass. You know, just in case you suddenly decide you want to find an axe and murder me rather than sit around here pretending to be my friend and meeting my mother while you're still hiding here."

"You're also funny!" Eames added with a smile. "I don't care that the question said to use three words, I'm going to add as many as I like!"

"But what would you choose? What do you think your friends would choose?" Arthur asked, openly curious now.

"I'd choose-"

Eames was interrupted by someone furiously knocking on the front door.

Both Arthur and Eames stared at the door, then looked at each other.

Eames cleared his throat and whispered to Arthur. "Does your mother knock that way?"

"She has a spare key, Eames."

There was more knocking. And then a beat of silence that was interrupted by Eames's phone ringing.

Eames glanced at the number, then answered the phone, and glanced at Arthur before putting it on speaker.

"I'm not by myself, Yusuf, so keep the swearing to a minimum."

"I don't care who you're with right now, motherfucker! You said you'd be at this address, so open the god damned door so I can't beat some sense into you!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Eames. "You invited Yusuf over too? A heads up would have been nice- I could have made him tea."

"You better open the door, Yusuf gets loud when he's upset."

Arthur got off the futon, went to unlock the door, then opened it. It was nice and bright outside, clearly a beautiful day, but the curly haired man standing in front of his door looked miserable in his anger. He also had a dog carrier at his feet. Arthur could even see the little dog's face pressed up against the carrier's door.

"I've seen a picture of this puppy," Arthur said. "Is this the dog you stole, Eames?"

Yusuf shushed Arthur and picked up the dog carrier, stuffing his cell phone into his pocket. "Are you going to let us in, or are you going to let me get caught in the act?"

Arthur frowned. "If you promise you aren't going to beat up Eames, I'll let you in."

Yusuf huffed and glared over Arthur's shoulder at Eames.

Eames waved and smiled, his cell phone off and sitting by his side. "Hello Yusuf! Buddy, pal, friend, best mate! What are the first three words you can think of to describe me?"

"Ignorant," Yusuf spat, moving past Arthur who'd moved aside to let Yusuf come in with the dog carrier. "Stupid! Moron!"

"Those are practically synonyms," Arthur said as he closed the door and locked it. "And if you do try to hurt Eames I'll be forced to punch you. Would you like some tea?"

Yusuf stopped glaring at Eames to blink at Arthur. "What?"

"Tea?" Arthur offered again. "I was going to refresh mine and Eames's cups, but I wanted to know if you wanted any first."

"And you'll punch me if I hurt Eames?"

Arthur nodded. "He's my guest. You can't beat up my guests."

Then Arthur turned away and moved to the kitchen to make Yusuf some tea anyway because the man still wasn't answering the question.

Yusuf set down the dog carrier and looked at Eames who still had his foot up on the coffee table, ice bag on his ankle.

"You're...are you wearing this guy's clothes?"

"His mom is coming over and my clothes are covered in dirt and grass stains. Arthur offered to wash them so I look more like a visiting friend and not some guy who tumbled into his yard and tripped over a fish grave. And yes, Arthur will punch you right in the face if you threaten me. He knocked out Joey Talbot's tooth in high school, you know. He's got a reputation and a right hook!"

Arthur had come back with his teapot, a selection of tea bags, and a fresh mug for Yusuf. Yusuf was still standing uncertainly next to the dog carrier.

"I promise," Arthur said, "I'm actually quite boring."


	8. Chapter 8

"Eames, we've got to talk about how stupid you are!"

Eames was ignoring Yusuf so he could cuddle the puppy. "Yes," Eames was saying to the small dog, "I love you so much, I can barely breathe!"

Yusuf had taken Eames's spot on the futon so Eames could be on the floor with the puppy. "You can't avoid the conversation forever, Eames."

"But look at his little face! Just look at his cute little ears! Isn't he the cutest, Arthur?"

Arthur had migrated to the floor as well, and was sitting near to the place Eames had sat to unlock the pet carrier and then cuddle the overexcited puppy. Arthur noticed the markings, the white fur, the little docked tail all matched the pictures he'd seen from Eames's phone. And the puppy really did look sweet. But Arthur wasn't moving any closer or trying to touch it.

Eames noticed this, shifting the puppy around in his arms, allowing the little thing to start nuzzling his fingers.

"Are you okay?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and pointed to the puppy now trying to gnaw on Eames's fingers. "You're bleeding."

"You shouldn't let him chew you up like that," Yusuf was muttering. "It's a bad behavior to teach him. And yeah, like Arthur says, you're bleeding."

Eames looked down at his fingers. "Huh, I didn't even feel that. You little monster, I'm not a snack...ugh, and you look smug about it too!" Then Eames gently put the puppy on the ground in front of him. "Could you watch him while I go clean myself up a little?"

Arthur nodded and told Eames where to find the peroxide and bandages in the bathroom. It hadn't been an easy or comfortable thing for Eames to get on the floor to play with the puppy, and Arthur noticed how deeply the other man winced when he had to get to his feet just to go clean himself up.

Once Eames managed to get a few steps away, the puppy looked at the way Eames had gone but hadn't attempted to scamper after him. The puppy whined once, then turned his attention to Arthur.

"He's loving," Yusuf was saying while Arthur stared at the puppy uncertainly. "While the neglect isn't anything as upsetting as Eames had feared, the puppy is pretty lonely. The trouble with Jack Russell Terriers is that they need lots of attention and care. They're really smart, but can get very anxious."

The puppy hadn't tried to clamber onto Arthur's lap yet. No, the puppy was looking at Arthur curiously, then put one paw on Arthur's knee and seemed to wait for his reaction.

"I hear that your name is supposed to be Bosco," Arthur said, conversationally as he reached out to pat the dog on the head.

"Doesn't look like a Bosco," Yusuf commented after sipping his tea.

"He's just a dog," Arthur said in response to that. But he did continue to pet the dog, speaking softly to him. "I'm sorry, puppy. I've never played with puppies before. Or petted them, really. So this is a first for me. I'll do my best."

"I would love to know what planet you're from, Arthur," Yusuf commented.

Arthur said, "My fish died today, so I'm a little off." Then he said, "I'm going to hug this puppy now. Eames seems to like hugging it. The puppy seems to enjoy being held."

Arthur gently picked up the puppy and put it on his lap like he'd seen Eames do. The puppy immediately began sniffing at the material of Arthur's shirt, which made him remember that he was still sitting around in his pajamas. Well, the puppy didn't seem to mind and that was all that mattered at the moment. Arthur held the puppy close, aware of how warm the little thing was. He continued to pet the puppy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames took the ice bag and put it back on his sprained ankle, made sure that it was settled, and then elbowed Yusuf in the ribs. Before Yusuf could retaliate, Eames pointed at him and said, "I'm about to hold the most wonderful puppy ever, Yusuf. We can fight later, but for now, you'll leave me alone."
> 
> Then Eames made grabby hands as Arthur got to his feet with the wriggling puppy held in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since my MRI on Monday I've been experiencing a huge amount of arm and shoulder pain, so I'm sorry this didn't get posted yesterday like I said I would. *hangs head in shame* I made sure to ice my arm and shoulder so that this will go up when I want it to!

"Having a nice bonding moment?"

Arthur continued to cuddle the puppy, but looked up when he heard Eames's voice.

"He's very soft," Arthur said, aware the second after he'd spoken that what he'd said was embarrassingly inane. Yes, the puppy's fur was soft. Obviously! So Arthur said, "Here, why don't you take him so I can go and check on your clothes. I'll take him to the futon."

Eames sat heavily next to Yusuf, who shot him another glare.

"Have your ice bag back, Eames," Yusuf said, dropping the bag into Eames's lap, making Eames flinch and pause as he tried to prop his foot back on the coffee table and pillow.

Eames took the ice bag and put it back on his sprained ankle, made sure that it was settled, and then elbowed Yusuf in the ribs. Before Yusuf could retaliate, Eames pointed at him and said, "I'm about to hold the most wonderful puppy ever, Yusuf. We can fight later, but for now, you'll leave me alone."

Then Eames made grabby hands as Arthur got to his feet with the wriggling puppy held in his arms.

"I understand," Arthur found himself saying to the whining pup. "It must have felt like forever, now you get to play with Mr. Eames again."

They made the trade. Arthur totally intended to turn and head outside to the laundry room. He needed to put Eames's clothes into the dryer. They'd have just enough time for those to dry before Arthur's mother arrived.

But Arthur found himself pausing to watch as Eames cuddled the puppy, scratching behind the dog's ears, and giving the little guy compliment after compliment.

"-and weren't you a little angel for Arthur? I bet you were! I didn't see any bite marks on _him_. You were right to treat him so kindly..."

And then Eames glanced up to see Arthur still standing there.

"Everything okay, love?"

Arthur regained his focus and answered.

"Yes, everything's fine. And it's true, he didn't bite me at all." Arthur raised his hands as if to prove it. "I'm going to head out to pull your clothes out of the washers. We'll get everything done in just enough time. I'll be back."

And then Arthur turned away with his laundry basket, grateful that he'd have the walk to the laundry room to review his actions and Eames's responses.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Arthur closed the door, leaned against the folding table that was firmly attached to the wall with a series of screws. "Face the facts, you idiot," Arthur said to himself. "He doesn't like you. He will never like you. No one ever likes you, so everything that he says and does at this time are just a result of knowing you for a couple of hours. And meeting under such weird circumstances. He feels sorry for you because of your dead fish."
> 
> Then Arthur took a calming breath, exhaled, and resisted the urge to add _But you like him a little and that's scary._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever, but it's been a very long, extremely annoying November. 
> 
> I won NaNo and thought that in addition to posting some of my October stuff that I've been completing along the way, I'd reward my 11th successful NaNo with a chapter for this story. 
> 
> I wrote this whole chapter listening to _Surviving_ by Jimmy Eat World (particularly "Delivery" and "555").

Arthur made it into the laundry room in time to see that he had less than a minute to deal with his thoughts on Eames. Maybe two and half minutes if he took his time putting the clothes into the dryer. He wasn't going to even count the scant amount of time it would take him to get back to his doorway.

The walk here had only allowed Arthur to get his thoughts into order. So at least he would be able to handle this quickly.

So Arthur closed the door, leaned against the folding table that was firmly attached to the wall with a series of screws. "Face the facts, you idiot," Arthur said to himself. "He doesn't like you. He will never like you. No one ever likes you, so everything that he says and does at this time are just a result of knowing you for a couple of hours. And meeting under such weird circumstances. He feels sorry for you because of your dead fish."

Then Arthur took a calming breath, exhaled, and resisted the urge to add _B_ _ut you like him a little and that's scary._

Arthur, though he looked so unemotional and didn't seem to be bothered by anything that was said about him or done to him, could be honest with himself. He he feelings like any other living person.

Yusuf asking him what planet he was from, as if he was so otherworldly that he couldn't be from Earth, kind of stung but he wasn't ever going to bring it up. And Eames consistently referring to him with all these nice words that Arthur wasn't sure were correct made him so...unsure.

Arthur made it a point to be aware of himself. He knew that he wasn't cold blooded, he loved people and things, even if that only included his parents and his fish. He was capable of feeling things like that.

Arthur wasn't broken or defective. He used reason, logic, and ethics a little more than others probably had to in order to navigate situations, but whatever. It got him through life this far.

But sometimes he felt that way because it was still something that separated him from everyone else.

Arthur sighed. "He called me love and it's an endearment. Just like darling. I'm not misinterpreting anything as simple as that, and I'm not going to change how I am, what I do, or how I feel for something so silly. When he leaves with the puppy I'll continue my life just like I always have, I just have to wait for this thing with my mother to pass. Then I'll have my apartment to myself again."

Arthur was aware enough of his feelings to notice that the thought did make him feel sad. But it was better this way.

The washing machine finally finished the load and shut off. Arthur was almost out of time to go over his feelings and thoughts about Eames.

Arthur opened the washing machine and put Eames's clean and stain free clothes into the basket so he could move it all into the dryer.

"I can focus on what I'm supposed to and get my life started," Arthur said to himself as he loaded the dryer with his laundry basket against his hip. After pressing some buttons to change the dryer's setting from 'delicate' to 'hot', he fed some quarters into the machine and started the machine. Arthur would come back in thirty minutes when the cycle was complete.

* * *

Arthur had made it to his door and was about to open it when he heard a bit of the conversation Yusuf and Eames were having. He paused when he heard his name. His building was so old and drafty that it wasn't unusual to hear a conversation from the front door, so Arthur remained still and listened in.

"So what do you intend to do with Arthur," Yusuf was saying. "It isn't like you can come back here since Kurt at least suspected you'd been through this area. What if he spots you together?"

"Me and Maurice will be okay if we visit Arthur," Eames was saying. "I've been looking at Arthur's Escher print on the wall behind the fish tank and I thought that calling the puppy Escher might be much. I'll call this puppy Maurice since Escher's first name was Maurits. Maurits is the Dutch equivalent of Maurice, after all."

Arthur continued to listen. He couldn't find a flaw in reasoning like that, and it was definitely a better name than Bosco. Yusuf didn't agree.

"That's an awful name for the puppy. Don't call him that if you're not adopting him, Eames!"

"What if I want to? He's used to me because we'd hang out after I did the gardening stuff for Kurt. And this little guy likes me. He also likes Arthur, so we've got that in common, too. We're an excellent match."

"Are you talking about you and the dog or you and Arthur?" Yusuf asked dryly.

Arthur felt that he'd already heard a little too much. He didn't need to know more about how Eames felt, or why he wanted to bring the newly named Maurice over to Arthur's neighborhood despite the chance he could run into Kurt.

Arthur opened the door and whatever Eames was about to say was cut off. Eames traded whatever he was going to say in response to Yusuf's question with a greeting to Arthur.

"You're back!" Eames said, looking honestly pleased to see Arthur. He held up the puppy who was taking a nap in his arms and said, "You'll never guess what I've named him!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and answered, "It's got to be better than Bosco, remember?"

Eames nodded quickly and began to give an explanation that Arthur had already heard through the front door. Arthur smiled and agreed that it was very nice, but tried to not give away how he was already attempting to distance himself from this. He stuck to topics that had nothing to do with his own feelings.

"In another thirty minutes your clothes will be ready. My mother will arrive after that, so it's cutting it close because you'll have to change out of my clothes and back into yours in only a couple minutes while hobbling around on a sprained ankle."

Eames smiled roguishly. "Are you sure you don't want to pretend that I'm boyfriend material for your mother? A disheveled, partially dressed young man could be explained away easily like that."

Arthur forced a smile, and attempted to not notice how Yusuf watching him with interest.

"Remember, Eames. She'll believe that I found friends. Calling you my boyfriend is a little much."

Arthur wasn't memorizing Eames's slightly crestfallen look. He _wasn't._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, now you're a little rumpled, but not indecent. You don't look like you've been running away from a guy you stole a puppy from."
> 
> Eames took Arthur's word for it as there was no mirror nearby. "Thank you, Arthur. For everything, really. Maybe sometime later we could-"
> 
> But the knock on the door cut Eames's words short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be having the worst month. I fell down some stairs yesterday and at first, I thought I'd let myself type another chapter of this to make me feel better, but really ended up staying in bed to elevate and ice my right knee which took the brunt of my fall. I'll be okay, it just looks and feels so ugly right now!

Arthur had ran to fetch Eames's clothing from the dryer. He rushed through his own front door with a full laundry basket and turned to Eames, who had forced himself to stand up and lean against the wall so he'd be ready to move.

"Less than five minutes to go, Eames," Arthur said. "Can you make it to the bathroom to change?"

Eames frowned and shook his head. "Better do it right here."

And since Yusuf was busy putting Maurice back in his pet carrier, it was up to Arthur to assist.

_You can do this. It doesn't mean anything. You're only helping him because he's going to fall over if he tries to head to the bathroom for privacy, and he's going to fall over while dressing. Maybe._

"You really don't have to give me a hand, Arthur."

Arthur shook his head. "She sent me a text, Eames. She's on her way and could just open up the door herself. I'll hand you your clothes and help you stay balanced when you need it."

When Eames pulled off his shirt and sort of had to lean against Arthur to get his arm free, Arthur kept his eyes directly on what was in front of him so he wouldn't so obviously gawk at so much exposed skin and tattoos- unfortunately Eames also had very nice looking clavicles.

Arthur gave Eames the clothes he tumbled into the yard wearing, piece by piece, studiously ignoring that Eames had to take off the clothes he borrowed from him. Arthur wasn't attempting to notice anything.

They managed to get Eames redressed in his own clothes in less than five minutes. It gave Arthur the time to examine Eames's face, to carefully finger-comb Eames's hair.

"Okay, now you're a little rumpled, but not indecent. You don't look like you've been running away from a guy you stole a puppy from."

Eames took Arthur's word for it as there was no mirror nearby. "Thank you, Arthur. For everything, really. Maybe sometime later we could-"

But the knock on the door cut Eames's words short.

"That's her," Arthur whispered to Eames. "She always knocks in case I'm busy."

Arthur had taken the chance to change his clothes. He'd done everything he would on a normal day when his fish hadn't died and a cute guy sprained his ankle while running through the yard. He looked as normal as he could.

"You look fine," Eames said as Arthur got ready to open the door for his mother. "Everything is going to be okay." Eames hobbled over to the futon again, ready to look like a visiting friend, nothing more.

From the corner, Yusuf gave Arthur a thumbs up.

Arthur opened the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We can sit here and talk for as long as you want, baby. I even stopped at the store and picked up a few things so we can have lunch."
> 
> Arthur pulled away slightly and said, "Before we start planning lunch or long talks, I should probably introduce you to my friends."
> 
> And just like Arthur had predicted, his mother appeared delighted by the news!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really intended to make this chapter longer, but I somehow strained my arm a couple of days ago. Its time to ice it again.

Arthur's mother entered the apartment, eyes only on her son.

Though Arthur had said that she would likely approach Eames first and then check on her son's well being, that wasn't true. After the door shut behind her, Arthur's mother set her purse and a grocery bag down and opened her arms.

Arthur went into her arms immediately, not caring that he had guests that she hadn't noticed yet.

"Oh baby," Arthur's mother sighed sadly.

"It's okay," Arthur said, only wanting to reassure her. She was a hugger. She had always been a hugger. Arthur didn't really like hugs, he didn't care for them, and he would usually only participate in one because it was expected of him at family events, because if he didn't he would seem rude.

But Arthur hugged his mother because he loved her dearly, and knew that this was her way of trying to comfort him after losing Ned. He still didn't like hugs, but he was willing to do this because it was the way he could reassure her as she tried to comfort him.

"We can sit here and talk for as long as you want, baby. I even stopped at the store and picked up a few things so we can have lunch."

Arthur pulled away slightly and said, "Before we start planning lunch or long talks, I should probably introduce you to my friends."

And just like Arthur had predicted, his mother appeared delighted by the news!

"Baby, you could have called me and told me that you had some friends over! I would have understood!" Then she looked over Arthur's shoulder and smiled at Eames on the futon, and Yusuf kneeling before the dog carrier.

"Why don't I make lunch for everyone?"

"That sounds like a great idea, ma'am," Yusuf said apologetically. "But I've got to get this little guy home and give Eames a lift-- he sprained his ankle before arriving here."

Arthur's mother looked from Yusuf to Eames. Arthur turned to look at the guys too.

Yusuf was sincere, but clearly wanted to leave with the rescued puppy.

Eames seemed a little torn, but finally agreed with Yusuf. "Yeah, I'm sorry to have to cut this visit short but I really should go home and rest."

They gathered their things and went out the door once Arthur's mother had moved to get everything set up in the kitchen.

"Thank you for taking care of my idiot friend," Yusuf muttered under his breath. "Say goodbye to Arthur, puppy!"

"Goodbye, Maurice," Arthur said to the puppy peeking through the door of the carrier.

Eames was the last out the door. He lingered a little, mostly so he could lean his weight against the door frame and give his ankle a rest.

"You're the best, Arthur," Eames said sincerely.

"I'm really not," Arthur disagreed.

"You hid me here and gave me First Aid, even treated me like a friend. Trust me when I say you're the best..."

Arthur was wondering if this would be the moment where Eames would try and ask him about visiting again, or seeing each other, or something. But all Eames did was shake his hand in a friendly sort of way. A decent goodbye from the man he just met who was pretending to be his friend.

This made Arthur feel a little sad.

"Have a safe trip home, Mr. Eames."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She pressed a kiss against the crown of Arthur's head. "Why wouldn't he want you as a friend, baby? You're the loveliest young man. You care about people's feelings and help others when they need it, just like you've proven today!"
> 
> "I'm scared," Arthur said, suddenly feeling smaller and younger than he'd felt in years. He was in unfamiliar territory while he discussed this with his mother. "I'm weird. People don't usually like me, but Eames does."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I was much more positive earlier-- I'm lucky to have posted one chapter for this story before I have to start working on anything but fanfiction starting tomorrow. Happy reading.

"Baby, are you going to tell me about what's really going on?"

Arthur had been picking at his grilled cheese sandwich, leaving his spoon sitting in the bowl of tomato soup, and barely listened to his mother's attempts at conversation until she got right to heart of things.

Arthur looked up at his mother and found himself unable to come up with a lie. Arthur made it a point to be upfront with his mother; what he'd said when she came in and saw Eames and Yusuf had been the only notable lie he'd told in- well, ever. He just never saw the purpose in lying to either of his parents about anything. Honesty was the best policy, how could they help unless they knew what was going on, and so on.

And even that thought sort of shamed Arthur. She'd caught on despite Arthur's best efforts.

"Arthur, I know that things haven't been going perfectly, and poor Ned passing away at this time can't make it easier, but you can tell me what's really happening."

So Arthur pushed away the plate holding his sandwich and his bowl full of soup, and folded his hands on the card table that was just big enough to fit in his small kitchen and provide a place for Arthur and maybe one guest to share a meal. It had the extra benefit of being a piece of furniture that Arthur could fold up and slip under his futon so it would be out of the way when he wasn't using it. The chairs they were sitting on would be moved back to their spots on either side of the cheap entertainment center his television rested on in the living room.

Arthur looked down at his hands and said, "When I was getting ready to bury Ned this morning, Eames had hopped the fence because he was running away from someone. He tripped over the grave I dug, sprained his ankle, and asked me for help." Arthur shrugged a little and forced himself to look at his mother. "He rescued a puppy from someone in this neighborhood, or maybe the next one over, and passed it to his friend Yusuf. I gave Eames First Aid, yelled at the guy Eames stole the puppy from when I went out to try and bury Ned again and Kurt, the guy, he popped up in the yard looking for Eames, and then I got your call."

"Oh my," Arthur's mother said. "You've had a very busy morning," she commented. "This Yusuf, he was the one with the dog carrier?"

Arthur nodded. "He didn't say for sure, but I think he might work with a veterinarian or maybe a no-kill animal shelter. He seemed to know a lot about dogs anyway, and said that though it wasn't as bad as Eames had initially thought, the puppy had still been neglected."

Arthur wasn't sure what else to say, so he rambled a little. "I held the puppy, you know? Eames wants to call him Maurice because of my Escher picture behind the fish tank."

Arthur's mother placed her hand on top of Arthur's and smiled. "And Eames?"

Arthur blinked. "Eames sprained his ankle, and when you called I had to come up with something plausible for why he was here that didn't involve rescuing a puppy."

"You've already told me that, dear," his mother said softly.

"Eames thinks I'm too nice," Arthur explained. "He thinks I'm great, which I don't agree with at all."

"I think you're great," Arthur's mother reminded with a fond smile.

"That's different. We're related and you love me. You're one of the few people who can stand to be around me!"

"I'll tell you what I've told you since you were a little boy, Arthur. You are an intelligent young man. You've got a big heart that you try and hide beneath this stoic attitude, and while it's gotten you through most experiences it's not lending you a hand with things like this. If you want my opinion, I think this young man likes you a lot."

"This is real life, not a story. We've only just met; no one likes anyone within less than a day." 

"The definition of _liking_ someone can be fairly broad," Arthur's mother said, really thinking out loud. "Why can't you like someone within a day of meeting them? Why can't you decide that you've met a person you'd like to spend some time with or chat with? Liking someone doesn't have to be automatically romantic, Arthur."

Arthur wasn't going to trace designs on the card table top as an excuse to not look his mother in the eye as they talked about this.

"Eames wants to see me. He wants to bring Maurice around and visit. I can't lie about how much this unnerves me, Mom. He says such nice things about me. But he pushed hard to pretend that we were in a relationship for your visit. He mentioned it twice. I also think he's attractive--that was literally one of the first few things I thought about him when he was running through the yard. Can I think that if I only like him and want him to really treat me like a friend would?"

Arthur's mother scooted her chair out, stood up, and then moved to Arthur's side so she could give him a hug. Stuck between the wall and the table, Arthur remained still and let her hug him again.

She pressed a kiss against the crown of Arthur's head. "Why wouldn't he want you as a friend, baby? You're the loveliest young man. You care about people's feelings and help others when they need it, just like you've proven today!"

"I'm scared," Arthur said, suddenly feeling smaller and younger than he'd felt in years. He was in unfamiliar territory while he discussed this with his mother. "I'm weird. People don't usually like me, but Eames does."

"People can be stupid," his mother firmly said. "But from what you've said so far, this Eames sounds polite and kind, and hasn't done anything wrong aside from stealing a puppy."

"That was rescue mission," Arthur quickly said.

Arthur's mother let her son go for a moment, running her fingers through Arthur's hair and smoothing it back because she'd mussed it a bit. "Yes, a rescue mission," she said fondly. "I think you should try and contact him later," she suggested.

"Later?" Arthur parroted, feeling a little slow after all the talking they'd done.

His mother sat back down and pointed to his food. "Try and eat a little more, dear. I swear you're nothing but skin and bones!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you come here to kill me?"
> 
> Arthur cleared his throat as he spoke into the intercom at the entrance to Eames's apartment complex. "I called you beforehand, so you can't say that this is particularly surprising. You gave me the address, Eames."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's the 10th and I'm surprised that I made it this far without slipping. Here's the reason why I'm going against my 'not going to write fanfiction' rule:
> 
> I went to the ER yesterday to get treatment for my shoulder, which had gotten much worse after Tuesday. It turns out my left shoulder is sprained! I've got pain medicine that is stronger than Ibuprofen (which I'll still have to take to reduce inflammation from the sprain) and learned a couple of physical therapy exercises the doctor suggested I work on as I'm healing. But I also still feel like trash. So, like the last time I had something unexpected go wrong with my health (Pleuritic Chest Pain in 2016 during finals week) I'm going to write fanfiction to make myself feel better, even if I sometimes have to type with one hand.
> 
> Here I go to write about friendship and love!

Arthur's mother was preparing to go when Arthur found the note.

Arthur found a folded slip of paper conspicuously sitting on top of the pile of clothes in the laundry basket he'd quickly placed in an out of the way spot before opening the door for his mother. He also noticed that the ice bag had been covered by some of the clothes in the basket, most likely so the slip of paper wouldn't accidentally get wet.

Curious, Arthur picked up the slip of paper, unfolded it, and read.

_Arthur,_

_This is my number. Call me if you get a chance or still want to talk to a dog thief. No, a guy who rescued a puppy. Wait, no, that sounds like I'm patting myself on the back if I label myself that. You know, just call me Eames. Please call me if any of this hasn't changed your opinion of me._

_\- Eames (former part-time gardener, the man currently cuddling a puppy while you're away in the laundry room.)_

Arthur couldn't help it; he laughed a little as he read those words. He could picture Eames writing that note while cuddling Maurice.

Arthur's mother noticed his attempts to stifle the sound.

"Did he leave you a funny note, baby?"

Arthur laughed again, holding up the slip of paper and waving it. "He left me his phone number..."

Arthur's mother leaned against the door, raised an eyebrow and asked, "Have you considered giving him a call? I could easily drop you off. It's no trouble, at all."

Arthur loved his mother. He loved her dearly. But he was entering unfamiliar territory, and even though his mother had been wonderfully supportive during their conversation at the table Arthur didn't want her to be lingering, waiting to come to his aid. This was yet another important aspect of socializing and dealing with people. It was just strange because Eames seemed to like him quite a bit, and even saved Arthur the trouble of doing some kind of sleuth work to find his phone number. Arthur was going to have to get used to the idea of being considered likable.

"No thanks," Arthur answered. "I'd like to have some time to think."

She understood that, probably recalling the numerous times Arthur would refuse rides home from school or self-defense practice so he could walk and think.

Arthur's mother moved away from the door, opened her arms again, and smiled. "Just one more for the road, and I promise I won't ask for another until Christmas."

This made Arthur smile as he went to her willingly, letting her embrace him one more time before she left Arthur's tiny apartment.

"I won't make you wait till then, Mom. I promise."

She gave him another kiss, this time on the cheek. "Next time I come over I'll make sure to bring some flowers for Ned. Would you like that?"

Arthur nodded, hugged his mother tighter and thanked her for coming over.

* * *

"Have you come here to kill me?"

Arthur cleared his throat as he spoke into the intercom at the entrance to Eames's apartment complex. "I called you beforehand, so you can't say that this is particularly surprising. You gave me the address, Eames."

Eames chuckled. "Don't mind that, Arthur. I was only half certain that you weren't Kurt."

Arthur's brow knit together in worry. "He hasn't been by, has he?"

"Thankfully, no, but I couldn't be sure. I also asked that question when it was just the pizza guy. Me and Maurice are having too much fun. You would have laughed if you saw the look on the little guy's face when I put you on speaker phone."

The thought did make Arthur smile a little.

"So are you going to let me in or not? I brought you a gift."

Arthur's offer was met with the sound of Eames buzzing him in.

* * *

Arthur's gift was a set of crutches.

"I can't believe it!" Eames said as Arthur presented them.

"You'll only make the sprain worse if you continue to walk on it like that," Arthur rationalized.

"And you brought them on the bus?"

Arthur shrugged. "The kind of shop where I could buy them was closer to my apartment than yours. It was easy."

Maurice was excited to see Arthur. Or maybe the new thing Arthur had brought with him that was now getting more attention from Eames, attention that Maurice loved dearly. So the puppy sat on Arthur's shoes and looked up at him adoringly to get the love he wanted. Arthur gently moved Maurice off his shoes, but was willing to kneel down and begin petting the puppy as he spoke to Eames.

"I came over because there was something I wanted to talk to you about..."

Eames stopped adjusting his new crutches and leaned them against the doorway.

Eames offered Arthur a seat on his couch. They sat together, Arthur trying to find the words.

"Eames, you're one of the first people to say they liked me. Even a little bit."

"Then all the other people are stupid," Eames said firmly. "I think you're lovely. If they bothered to get to know you, surely they'd-"

And Arthur interrupted him right there. He apologized, then continued with his interruption. "-that's what I want. With you, I mean. I'd like to get to know you. I know this sounds silly, but I'd like us to be friends first," Arthur said, taking in the way Eames's expression changed from curious to hopeful.

"First? What happens after that?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You made several statements that suggest you'd like to form a relationship with me. You wanted to pretend to be my boyfriend, Eames. I may not have much experience with people, and all of this scares me, but I can notice something obvious like that. I want you to know that I like you."

"You like me?"

"Yes. I really like you. I think that you're attractive and nice but I don't know anything about you aside from the little things I've learned today." Arthur took a deep breath and confessed. "I want to befriend you before we have a romantic relationship."

Eames was grinning. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Arthur replied.

"Everything! Let me grab my phone so we can do more of those _Teen Vogue_ questions and learn about each other!"

The puppy had followed them to the couch, and looked up at them uncertainly from the floor while they spoke.

Maurice was too little to jump up there and join them, but after the puppy began to whine, Eames reached down to pick up the puppy who decided that the best place to lay down would be on top of Arthur and Eames's clasped hands.

* * *

Later on, years later, people would ask them how they met because people found it charming or sweet. Arthur would talk about his pet fish Ned dying suddenly that morning, and Eames would talk about Maurice and his old owner Kurt. They'd go over everything in broad strokes because the beginning of the story was quite short.

They didn't tell everyone about what Eames called a long courtship, but Arthur firmly referred to as the time they were still getting to know one another. They went out for fun before they ever started going on real dates. They'd spend the night over at each other's places to watch movies before they ever moved on to starting a physical relationship and staying the night.

People didn't usually want to hear the stories about how they'd stay up late talking about childhoods, good and bad memories, and life in general. Their "meet-cute" implied that their falling in love and starting a relationship was a given from the very second Eames tripped over the grave Arthur dug for Ned, but the best parts of their relationship were the things they worked on and built together.

A nice life for Arthur, Eames, and their dog named Maurice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have triggered more back, shoulder, and arm pain, but damn it I'm glad I finished this! Edits for errors are going to have to wait.
> 
> *And sorry, I forgot to include this in my rush to get off the laptop and get to bed.
> 
> I actually started writing this fic when I was at the height of a big bout of depression in the summer after I didn't finish some important courses, was required to sit through my own commencement ceremony anyway, and I got to feel the sting of seeing smarter students who had bright plans for their futures after college, and having to listen to many of them ask what I was going to do next.
> 
> So, Arthur, the student who hasn't gotten his degree yet either and is bothered by the way this makes him look and feel, is sort of depressed too. This was going to be a meet-cute to make me feel better, but around the time I started working on the first few chapters one of my new neighbors chatted with me about her depression and suggested, to my face, that I might not understand what that was like since I'm so happy and smile at everyone. 
> 
> But when I politely mentioned that I really do have depression, that its quite hard to get out of bed and face the day when everything feels futile and stupid, that same neighbor looked at me in disbelief and then spoke the dreaded words _Well then maybe you should get a boyfriend._ As if that was the answer to all my problems. After that, the story took on a different tone: I wanted Arthur and Eames to become friends. I wanted Arthur to be able to leave his apartment and form a connection with another person. 
> 
> So everyone, thank you for sticking with me as I wrote without a schedule or outline aside from the thought of _I want Arthur to feel better._


End file.
